"Knock, knock! Young dy, are you awake? We're coming in!"

  Their voices cut through the stillness of the morning.

  I let out a sleepy "hmm" and tried to burrow deeper beneath the bnkets, desperate for a few more precious moments of sleep. But Jane, one of my ever-dutiful attendants, had other pns. Without hesitation, she yanked the covers off me entirely.

  “Can’t I sleep a little longer?” I mumbled, my voice thick with protest.

  Jane didn’t spare me a gnce. She marched to the windows, yanked open the curtains, and flung the panes wide. Morning sunlight poured in, accompanied by a brisk breeze that swept away my lingering haze of sleep.

  Across the room, Cecil was already at work, fumbling to put out the fire crackling in the hearth. It was still early spring, after all—and the warmth of the fire had been more than welcome just moments ago.

  I still haven’t quite grown used to the way my mornings begin now. The early wake-up calls, the quiet structure of routine—it’s a far cry from the life I once lived.

  Back then in my previous life, I had the freedom to sleep whenever I wanted. No arms. No expectations. Time was mine to spend however I pleased.

  But in truth, I rarely rested.

  I was always chasing something—goals, recognition, a version of success that never felt quite mine. Sleep became a luxury, something I allowed myself only after exhaustion had already taken hold. I lived as if rest was optional, something to earn. My body, inevitably, began to falter. And in those final moments, I saw clearly how much I had given away—how easily I’d traded my peace for approval.

  Now, everything is different.

  I follow a schedule. I wake with the sun, sleep before the stars fully take the sky. It’s structured. Predictable. And yet… I feel better. Lighter. My body is healing, and my mind is quieter. There’s a steadiness in this rhythm that I never knew I needed.

  I still miss the feeling of being untethered. But I no longer confuse freedom with chaos. This life—measured and mindful—is teaching me how to breathe again.

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